


When the Armor Falls

by Athena13



Category: The X-Files
Genre: After Case, Comfort, F/M, Pre-Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athena13/pseuds/Athena13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when the armor falls and everything is left bare?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written December 1998.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a tough case, Scully realizes there's never going to be a perfect moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo collage for story: http://www.athena13.com/pix/xfiles2.jpeg

Too close.

The words repeated over and over again in her head as she tossed her now decimated suit to the motel room floor. Once naked, she stood in the middle of the dark room and tried to school her thoughts. It was no use. It wasn’t just the lack of clothes that left her bare, her emotional armor was also gone. For all that she had gone through, the times she had felt like this were far and few between, all things considered. She couldn’t actually remember feeling this vulnerable since a dark night in Minnesota when she had been taken by a man with a murderous perversion, locked in a closet, and felt more helpless than she had ever felt before. 

Shaking off the pull of the past, recent and distant, she padded lethargically to the bathroom. Her whole body ached from the tension of holding to her dignity during the drive back to the motel. She rummaged and found the packet of scented bath foam that for years she had kept hidden in her overnight bag. Tonight was definitely a night to use it. As the lavender scent filled the air the past dragged her back again. 

Donnie Pfaster had been preparing the bath for her at his mother’s house. 

She took a deep breath, but not even years of pretend impassivity helped. She felt the first of what she expected to be many tears slide down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe them away.

She grabbed the extra towels she had requested at check-in and put them near the tub and turned to grab her small travel radio. She flipped it to a rock station that suited her inner turmoil. She didn't think Mozart could calm her tonight. Then she slipped under the hot bubbles and let the sobs come.

Tonight, it hadn't been her who had been taken or overpowered, it had been her partner. She remembered all too clearly when she found their suspect with a gun to her partner's head. Mulder had been barely cognizant and she had been truly fearful that he'd sustained a serious head injury. Of course, that fear was secondary to the thought that with just one twitch his life might be ended right there in front of her. It had taken all of her willpower and training not to charge them and murder the bastard right then, but she knew she had to keep her wits about her and talk him down. It was what her profiler partner would have been doing had he been in a fit state. 

Finding an angle, for a shot and a negotiation, was a challenge. The killer had nothing to lose. He knew he would face the death penalty or death by cop if he was caught. Why the hell shouldn’t take the profiler who had identified him with him to the great beyond? She realized in a split second that she had to do more than distract the monster holding the gun. Her partner was in no shape to take advantage. So, Mulder's life lay in her hands and if she failed at least two of them were going to die on that abandoned pier. And she would die in spirit.

Even now she wasn't sure how she did it, but somehow she managed to trick him. To get him to pull the gun away just enough that she could be sure that he wouldn't shoot Mulder in reflex when she shot him. It was a good thing she was a crack shot because that's just what she did. Right between the eyes. Luckily Mulder had passed out and slid to the floor just as she shot and missed watching and getting the more gory stuff on his hair. 

Obviously, she hadn’t been so lucky. 

She picked up a washcloth and began to scrub her hands. The cursory wash she had given them in the police station hadn't been complete and there was still dried blood and brains under her nails from when she had moved the body to get to Mulder.

With the help of the locals who showed up on scene just when she took the shot, she got Mulder to the ambulance. He was out of it, but conscious again by then. It was with an uncharacteristic docility he consented to go to the hospital for a real check up. He had refused, though, to stay in the hospital after he found out he only had a mild concussion and a doctor for a partner to watch over him. So a cop had driven him to the motel while she went to the police station to make a statement. 

She lay back in the tub as the images washed over her. Killing a man. Almost watching her injured partner die. She let out a shaky death. Mulder gone was unthinkable. She had lived through it once, but somehow then she’d been given hope. This time there would be no hope, she would have watched it happen. She would have been responsible. It would be down to her failure. The fact that she hadn't failed was of little consolation right now.

The bath water began to cool and goose pimples began to spread across her body signaling that it was time to get out and face the world again. Or at least check on her partner and then lapse into a fitful sleep after he kicked her out and wouldn’t let her watch over him. She washed her hair under the faucet and got out of the tub. Wrapped under the armor of towels she walked back into the dark room to dress.

She gave her hair a last swipe with the towel, not bothering at this late hour to blow dry it, and headed for the connecting door to her partner's room. 

With the headache he already had and the pain killers the hospital gave him he should have been long asleep, but being Mulder he fought against them, refusing to sleep before he saw her again that night. When she entered he was laying on the bed flipping the television channels. He was obviously in no shape to watch the glowing box, but was obviously comforted by the familiar sounds.

"Scully," he said quietly as she stood by his bedside. 

"Do I need to ask how your head is?" she smiled softly at his predictability.

"There's no Spice on this cable," he whined.

"As if you could see it right now." She rolled her eyes.

"Sit." He patted the bed next to him.

Scully was startled, this was not standard. Normally she would stand by his bed and tell him he should sleep. He would whine and before the last syllable was out of his mouth he would be asleep. She would cover him, turn off the television, and return to her own room. But tonight her armor was gone and so, apparently, was his. Tonight they had both faced a surprising possible end to their partnership. It wasn't a conspiracy or some paranormal-like cult. It was a simple maniac with a gun.

She pushed those thoughts away and climbed onto the bed with him. Mulder placed an extra pillow against the headboard next to him, a silent invitation. One which she implicitly accepted as she propped herself up next to him. 

They sat there silently for a few minutes as he continued to flip through the channels. Even though it usually annoyed her she couldn’t bring herself to care. Somehow she found comfort in the senseless action just as he always did.

"How is your head?" she finally dares to break the silence.

Mulder chuckled then winced in response to the question. It was just too easy to take advantage of the opening. Them in bed together in a no-tell motel and her asking him if he had a headache. Too easy and not quite weird enough. It reminded him of their first case together. 

"How about yours?" he asked instead of following the other line of thought.

"Not so good.” 

His breath caught at the honesty. In six and a half years of partnership and friendship he could count on one hand the number of times she hadn’t simply said “I’m fine, Mulder” even when it was a blatant lie. Even through the haze of pain killers the psychologist in him didn’t fail to recognize what it meant. 

He put his hand on her leg, wanting to ground her and encourage her to stay open. "Thank you for saving my ass once again,” he said quietly.

"I'm just glad I could," is all she said. They have both saved each other so many times that more words weren't necessary. 

"Yeah, me too. When I saw you, all three of you, I knew you would save me."

Scully looked down at the strong, large hand lying on her leg and tears once again blinded her vision. No matter the situation those hands provided her with strength and showed her tenderness. That almost disappeared tonight. She can’t fight back the overwhelm of even contemplating that loss.

"I wasn't so sure, Mulder," she admits brokenly.

The remote is dropped to the bed and forgotten as Mulder rolls over puts his other hand under her chin. He tilts her head up to look at him. "I knew. I had no doubts. "

"I." She stopped. She was about to say she almost lost him, but she isn’t sure that won’t open a can of worms. Doubts about whether she’s really had him, even after all this time.  
So much distance has always lain between them, the moments of closeness few and far between. She has never been certain why. "I killed someone. I took a life," she said instead.

Mulder understood. She's an FBI agent, but above that she's a doctor. Even the fact that she's a pathologist doesn't change her dedication to save human life, or find justice against those who have taken it. Right then he wasn’t sure if she had ever taken a life before in the line of duty, all he could think about is tonight. A night where she had admitted she needed and would welcome the comfort that he always needs to give, but always ended up getting. 

He reached over and pulled her unresisting body against his. "I know and I'm sorry and grateful." He rubbed her back as the sobs she endured earlier returned. "Oh, Scully," he said mournfully, feeling the pain his partner is going through, but glad for once to be able to carry some of it for her.

After a while her sobs slowed and stopped, but she didn’t leave his arms. Before she could even attempt it his arms tightened around her. 

"Just a little longer," he asked, still caressing her back. "Share this with me for just a little longer."

She didn’t have it in her to say no. To slink away in embarrassment and false bravado. For the first time in hours she felt safe and she was beyond caring that it’s someone else giving that to her. That it’s him. That they were no longer propped up by the headboard, but melded together on the bed.

She let herself lay there in the dark, in his arms. 

And they fall asleep safe in each other's embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder wakes up.

Mulder awoke disoriented. 

The sun was streaming in the through the open curtains. It wasn't often that it was completely light out when he got out of bed. He usually went for a run around dawn simply because he was awake. This morning it was so bright he couldn't even keep his eyes open.

'Oh yeah, I was injured last night,' he suddenly remembered. That explained the sleeping late and the photosensitivity.

His morning erection was just par for course. He rolled onto his back and rubbed at his eyes, giving thought to indulging in some morning relief and the thickness of the motel walls. He took a deep breath and started sliding his left hand down his stomach when he caught an unexpected scent.

Scully.

He knew it before turning his head to see the bundle curled up on the bed facing him. His fingers stopped their travel and clenched. He took another deep breath and rolled on to his side facing her. He had thought it was all a dream, her in the bed with him when he fell asleep. He bit his lip and wondered why she hadn’t snuck back to her own bed in the middle of the night. Heck, maybe he was still dreaming?

Though she was curled up like a child, she didn't look like a child to him. Her hair was spread out on the pillow around her. Both the flame of her hair and the sunlight had turned her milky white skin appearing translucent, except for the freckles sprinkled over her nose.

Through her t-shirt he could see the outline of her unbound breasts. No childlike didn't describe how she looked or his thoughts and physical reaction upon looking at her.

Now both his hands were clenched. He so badly wanted to reach out and touch her. Feel her warmth and her softness. 

Stop! This was Scully. He didn't allow himself to have these kinds of thoughts about Scully. Well, not too often or too long when he couldn’t prevent them completely. But she was his work partner, his friend, and someone who deserved a hell of a lot more than he had to offer. 

That one interrupted kiss haunted him as much as any other unfinished business in his life. Like all things personal and emotional that didn’t have to do with government conspiracies and Mulder’s reckless adventures, they never talked about it and definitely never tried it again.

Moving away from his depressing thoughts he continued his perusal of Scully at sleep.

Somehow he seemed to have slept through a rather turbulent night for his partner. Her shirt had twisted up around her body and left her midriff bare above her sweatpants. Mulder just stared. It was a part of her body he'd seen maybe twice in the past six and a half years before today. He wanted to memorize it for all time.

If she knew I was studying her she would kill me, he told himself, but he didn't stop looking. 

Next on the agenda were her sweats. Just regular generic, gray sweatpants. The fact that they are molded to her body like a second-skin certainly didn't make them sexy, he insisted to himself.

Mulder smiled when he saw her feet. The tiny feet he often made fun of. They were adorable. He imagined that they were soft and silky like the rest of her. They looked it. Her toenails were polished in candy pink. Now that was something about Scully he hadn't ever suspected. Pink. Feminine. Hidden.

His thoughts were spiraling down fast. He closed his eyes and quietly let out a breath. She looked so peaceful and innocent in sleep. Yet not that innocent his still painful erection reminded him. He wanted to touch her so much, no matter how much he tried to deny it. Never had he gotten this close.

He had never lain in bed with her before. He had never been offered the opportunity to reach out and caress her bare stomach. Not even on that first case when she had dropped her robe. He had briefly gotten a feel of the silky skin of her back, but that was different. Then he hadn't trusted her and he hadn't allowed himself to think about her as a woman. And a back was different than a stomach.

He opened his eyes again, not wanting to miss a moment of this sight that was sure to end very soon. He remembered thinking that her armor was down last night, but not like this. No matter how vulnerable or distraught Scully was, and those were not words normally associated with her, she would never allow him the liberty or pleasure of just watching her. This was his one and only chance. Not even guilt or professional respect could make him turn away.

He carefully moved closer to her, wanting to feel the heat radiating off her body. Once he was sure she hadn't woken up he lay his hand down on the bed between them. It would only take the slightest movement and he would be touching her. Touching her bare stomach, touching her breast.

Suddenly she stirred in her sleep and he became afraid she would open her eyes and find him watching her. But she stayed asleep. He watched as her face screwed up as she dreamed and breathing sped up. Then she began to make little moaning noises. As much as he wished it were otherwise, she was clearly having a nightmare. 

Still he didn't touch her, not wanting to embarrass her. Or break the spell of the morning. 

A few minutes later it became clear her dream wasn't going to pass.

Scully began to mumble his name and his heart clenched in his chest as he saw tears began to fall from her closed eyes. He had to stop this.

He moved his hand until it touched her cheek. 

"Scully," he whispered gently as he began to caress her face. He moved closer, careful to not let his still throbbing erection come into contact with her. With his other hand he covered himself with the blanket. 

"Scully," he said a little louder.

"Mulder," she sobbed, still not waking.

Mulder couldn't take anymore and gathered her in his arms. 

"Scully, please wake up. It's okay," he crooned. He felt her jerk in his arms as she awakened. 

"Mulder," she whispered.

"Yeah, I'm here it's okay," he whispered into her hair.

"I was too late, I failed," she cried, her tears wetting his shirt and through it his chest.

He began to rub her back, much as he did last night, in comforting circles. "It was just a dream, I'm here and very much alive. You saved me." 

Very alive, he moaned to himself as his penis fought to touch her through his boxers and the smothering blankets.

"Oh God," she whimpered and put her arms around him and pressed herself closer to his body. Then she stopped abruptly and her eyes flew open.

Mulder closed his eyes in mortification and fear. She had felt it, him, against her body. And despite his embarrassment he felt himself growing even bigger and harder as her complimenting area pressed against him through the blanket. 

He was frozen. He didn't know what to do. It was her call. Mulder fully expected her to roll away and go back to her room and pretend nothing had happened. So he was shocked when he felt her thrust against him. It was small and obviously involuntary, but he couldn't stop the moan that escaped his throat.

At the feel of her breath on him he shuddered and his hand moved of its own accord down her back and cupped her firm ass and pulled her closer. 

He heard her sigh and he pulled her tighter against him. He closed his eyes and held his breath and waited for her response. He didn't think he could survive if she rejected him now.

After what seemed like forever, but was actually a few seconds, he felt her hands reach down and push away the constricting blankets. Still she didn't move or say a word. 

He opened his eyes and saw her looking down at him. The awe in her face astounded him. He saw her hand begin to reach forward and stop. Unlike his mind, his body wasn't worried about rejection or anger. He was peeking out of his boxers and straining towards her. Towards her hand. Now, she was the one who only had to move millimeters and would be touching his bare skin.

Still she did not looking at his face. And he waited.

"Scully," Mulder croaked out, unable to wait any longer. "Look at me."

"I thought I was," she said in an uncomfortable, low tone.

Shit, this shouldn't have happened. She just woke up from a nightmare and was disoriented and now she doesn't know how to extricate herself. He gently placed his fingers under her chin and gently tilted her face until she was looking at him. "Nothing has to happen here." He still couldn't bring himself to end this moment. This extremist of all possibilities.

Scully opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. 

Mulder closed his eyes and let his hand drop from her chin. He took a deep, ragged breath and moved to roll over and do what she obviously could not. Before he could rise from the bed her hand grabbed his arm and stopped him. He froze, but did not speak or turn back towards her.

"Don't go," she said in a voice so low that he had to strain to hear her. "Stay here with me a little longer," she pleaded. 

As if he could refuse her.

He slowly turned back around and she came willingly into his arms. This time, she threw her leg around his to hold him in place.

'What is she doing? Does she know what she's doing?' he wondered and it took all of his self-control to just lie there and comfort her. 

Despite his resolve to comfort her he couldn't help but notice her breasts pressing into his chest. He convinced himself that she was just cold and seeking warmth, despite the warm sun that was beating down on the bed. Despite the fact that he felt so hot he thought he was going to melt.

Her hair was covering his face and all he could see was a red haze. Her lips were millimeters from his neck and he could feel her breath on his moist skin. Her pubic bone was firmly pressed against his erection. She must know what this is doing to me, he thought frantically.

She had to know. She had to feel it.

Then he felt her begin to run her fingers through his hair, gently caressing his scalp. Then her fingers trailed down to his shoulder and continued to caress him until her hand reached his hip. It was as if she was confirming that despite her dream he was alive and whole. 

Then she pressed herself closer, drawing his heat through her clothes to her skin. 

Scully felt his heartbeat and his breath through her hair. He's alive! she thought joyously. He's alive! Unable to stop her exploration she moved her hand around his hip and cupped his ass. Much as he had done to her before.

Mulder thought he was going to burn up and die right there. The fire he had always been afraid of was looming in his not so distant future. He couldn't stop his breathing from turning into what had to sound to her like panting. 

Still she didn't move. She lay still in this provocative position, waiting.

Minutes passed.

Just when Mulder thought he was going to have to push her away and run under the cold spray of the shower she moved. 

It was so slow that he almost missed it. Then he felt her lips on his neck. Her tongue tasted him, savored him, and she moaned. "You're alive."

"Scully," he moaned. "Please." All he wanted was for the torture to end. Either let him go or make love to him. Just stop the torture. Or he would. He no longer had the willpower to just roll away from her. 

"You're alive, Mulder," she repeated.

"Yes, Scully, I'm alive. We're both alive." Mulder was close to tears. Telling himself she didn't want the same thing he did, that she deserved better than him, that should would hate him wasn't working anymore. He didn't have the energy anymore to fight it.

Then it hit him. That's what she was waiting for. She didn't want him to go, but she couldn't ask him to stay. She couldn't bring herself to say the words. He was the profiler, she knew he'd eventually figure it out. Of course, she was assuming I still capable of thinking with my larger head. He snorted a laugh into her hair.

With a new resolve Mulder moved his hand and cupped her breast. Slowly he began to caress it with his fingertips until he reached her nipple. He almost passed out as he felt it harden in his hand. 

"Do you want this?" he whispered, giving her another chance to back out and pretend this had never happened. He felt her nod against his chin, still unable to say the words.

Mulder leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth. Slowly he caressed her through her shirt with his tongue. He felt Scully press herself against him in response.

He pulled back and looked at her. Her shirt was plastered against her breast, wet from his mouth. The sight was erotic. But what was more jarring was the look in her eyes. Her eyes had changed color to match a storm tossed sea. It was something he had seen before, but had attributed to annoyance or stress. Now he knew it for what it was, passion. Lust. For him. Despite his insecurities, his fear of her rejection, he knew that it was solely for him. Scully wanted him, and had for a long time.

He leaned forward, still looking her in the eyes and watching. Then he grabbed her lips and began to kiss her. This time it was more than an brush of lips. This was a kiss. His first, real, Scully-kiss.

He reached his tongue out and caressed her lips and she opened up and let him in. His tongue caressed her teeth, her tongue, her mouth. He felt her hand reach up and pull his head deeper. He felt rather than heard her answering moan as she nipped his bottom lip and began to suck on it.

He reached his hand around and began to caress her breast again. And she moaned again. 

He broke his mouth away from her and began to kiss the rest of her face. Small little kisses. Then he began to kiss and suck on her earlobes and neck.

Some small part of him still couldn't believe this was happening and was waiting for her to pull away and run. Until she spoke.

"I want this, Mulder," she said as if she had just decided. As if she heard his fears. "I'm tired of waiting for the perfect time."

Mulder pulled back and listened with his heart and mind. 

"We've been waiting for it to be allowed. We've been waiting for the perfect time. There isn't going to be one, Mulder. Either one of us could be gone in a heartbeat and all we'll have left are regrets. I don't want us to die with regrets, Mulder. I want us to live," she finished firmly.

Mulder felt tears in his eyes. She felt the same way he did. He reached out and cupped her face. "Me too," he agreed and leaned down. "I want us to live."

And then they kissed again, celebrating their declaration of life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully's point of view the morning after.

Scully lay in Mulder's bed watching him sleep. The fact that she had had to disentangle herself from his arms to do so was of minor consequence. Lying in his arms was just a temporary and too tempting position. This was her favorite secret pastime, watching her partner when he didn't know she was watching. The first time she had done it, she had felt like she was looking at a complete stranger. As if she had been working side by side with someone other than the man she was looking at in their office. 

Their former office. 

Whatever.

The first time had been a few months into their partnership. It wasn't that she had suddenly discovered that he wore a mask when he knew she or anyone was looking. Or even armor like the knight-errant she sometimes thought of him as. It wasn't even that she had suddenly discovered that he was a complex person she wanted to figure out. All of those facts she had figured out the first time she had walked into his office and saw him looking at some slides. The untroubled expression, the almost friendly manner he presented to her that first day was so at odds with everything she had heard or surmised about him she had seen it for the ruse it was. Obviously he had been expecting her; he had probably even heard her heels clicking down his quiet hall.

It certainly wasn't that she had suddenly realized he was good looking. That she had also noticed the first time she had seen him, a phony placid expression on his face along with those sexy glasses he didn’t wear nearly enough. No, that wasn't news to her. Heck, she had felt an attraction to him that the profiler noticed right away, a fact still embarrassed her to this day. 

It was none of these things. 

They had been discussing a case. He had been throwing out strange theories that she was dodging and parrying. Even then she knew that most of the time he was just trying to get a rise out of her, or scare her into requesting a transfer. Or both. No, what had gotten her attention was that she had turned around to grab her autopsy report for reference and when she had turned around he had been looking at her. 

Intently. Staring. 

His hazel eyes had turned a deep shade of olive green. He wasn't looking at her ass or in any sort of offensive manner that she would have called him on. It was like he was trying to understand something or believe something he couldn't quite believe. The look had only lasted a few seconds and his face had returned to normal when he noticed she was holding out her report. But the look had remained ingrained in her mind. And she was determined to figure out what he had been thinking.

So, she began to watch him. Hoping to see that look again, hoping she could get him to discuss it if she caught him. But Mulder was good and by the time she had caught him again she no longer wanted to call him on it. She had found herself enjoying the guilty pleasure of watching him and hoping for peeks into his secret self. She certainly didn't want to call attention to her new habit by calling attention to his.

Now, years later, she lay watching him sleep and of course he was injured. That she'd done a dozens of times before, but not while lying in his bed. Usually she sat in an uncomfortable chair in some hospital room. Or some comfortable chair in her bedroom. Or some hideous chair in a motel room. Once or twice, during decontamination protocols, in a bed in the same room as him. Never in the same bed he was in.

This time she wasn't looking for anything clue to the mind that was Mulder. Tonight she was trying to discover something about herself. She needed to know why after all the close calls they had over the years tonight's had seemed so much worse. 

Scully didn't know if it was because they had grown closer or because they no longer had the X-Files between them. It could have been the near kiss in his hallway months ago, she admitted. Whatever it was, tonight's near miss had affected her more profoundly than she ever thought possible. Even now, the thought that Mulder's life could have ended in a split second made her shake.

Logically she knew disaster had been averted and he was alive and barely injured right there in front of her. She tried to tell herself to breathe a sigh of relief and move on. She usually did. She most certainly should go back to her own room and her own bed, but she couldn't bring herself to stop looking at him. 

The fact that she could see the rise and fall of his chest was something she knew she would miss tonight if she went back to her room. She would fall asleep and dream he had died and she would just need to sneak back in and reassure herself that he was alive. 

So why bother? Scully rationalized, as she did so well.

She studied his features, the only light came from a street light outside the window. His beautiful face. God, he would laugh if he knew she thought that. But it was true. His nose would have been disproportionate on anyone else, but on him it was just, well, perfect. His strong chin, his defined cheeks, his long lashes. She could wax rhapsodic on this face, and she was a scientist. 

And about his hair. 

And about his body. Oh man, about his body.

His body, her mind whispered as she began a slow perusal. Selfishly, she hadn't put the covers back on his body when she had left his embrace. The room was rather warm and it wasn't like he had a fever or anything. And she wanted to look. Not as a doctor examining a patient, but as a woman.

He was wearing a T-shirt and boxers. It must have been a laundry week because he usually wore boxer briefs; she had traveled with him enough to know that. Not that she was complaining. She could still see his muscular legs and sexy thighs. She could even see his stomach. His slightly furry, taut stomach. On this surreal night she wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him. As if he wouldn't be mortified and angry enough just to know she was watching him.

This has to be enough, Scully thought as sleep overtook her again.

~~~~~~~~~

Scully was running through the warehouse looking for her partner. Just as she rounded the corner she saw them. The suspect they had been chasing was holding him and there was a gun pressed to his head. 

"Stop, Federal Agent!" she yelled and aimed her gun.

Before the words were out of her mouth the suspect pulled the trigger and she was pelted with the lifeblood of Fox Mulder. 

Oblivious to the gun now trained on her Scully collapsed at his side frantically looking for some sign that he was alive, that she could save him.

Her hands were covered with blood, his blood. 

"Mulder!" she called out hopelessly.

"I'm here, it's okay," he answered her.

"I was too late, I failed," she answered him, trying to figure out where his voice was coming from as she looked on his dead body. She hoped it wasn't another post-death visitation like from her father or those woman, she didn't she could rationalize it one more time.

Then she felt him touching her. Gentle circles on her back and she found herself in his arms.

"It was just a dream, I'm here and very much alive. You saved me," he told her.

"Oh God," she whimpered and moved in his phantom embrace. Then she felt it. Him. Hot and throbbing against her. 

And then Scully realized it was all a dream.

He's alive, he's alive; oh my god he's alive! She was too shocked and happy to be embarrassed or uncomfortable. Her earlier fear paralyzed her and what she had thought was only tears in her dream turned to real life sobs of relief.

He was alive and holding her in his arms. Comforting her. He, who had almost died, who had been injured, was comforting her. And despite her jumbled emotions she felt herself become aroused as she felt him pressed against her and breathed in his scent. She couldn't stop herself from thrusting against him.

Scully heard his answering moan and her tears subsided. She looked down and was suddenly and irrationally angry to find a blanket stopping her from feeling him and the proof of his survival against her. The fact that he grabbed her and pulled her tighter against him didn't help.

She had to feel him, to see him, to prove to herself that this part wasn't the dream. She pushed the blanket away and saw him. He was erect and straining towards her. He was alive. Very, very alive.

Scully felt he was stunned and awed. For all the times she had seen him naked, he had always been injured. This was no medical assessment. This was no injured partner. This was an aroused Mulder and she wanted to touch him. To taste him. 

Scully searched frantically through her mind for all the reasons she had built up between them to stop herself from taking this step. For the logic. For the rules. All she could find was more need.

"Scully," Mulder croaked out. "Look at me."

"I thought I was," Scully answered in an uncomfortable, low tone.

Then Mulder gently placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face until she was looking at him. 

Scully saw the lust and fear battling in his eyes. His beautiful, expressive, alive eyes. 

"Nothing has to happen here," he told her.

Yes it does, her mind insisted, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. Then Mulder moved. He rolled away from her and began to rise. Even if she couldn't say the words, she couldn't let him leave them now. 

Scully reached a hand out and pulled him back towards her.

"Don't go," she said softly. "Stay here with me a little longer." She admitted that she was pleading. What she couldn't say in words was in her voice. She needed him there. She needed him. If this was real, she wasn't going to let another day go by without finally feeling the touch of her lover. Yes, her lover. They had never made love, but he was her lover. She was certain of that as she was of any fact found in any science book.

Mulder returned to her and took her into his arms. In order to express to him what she couldn't say she put her leg on top of his and pressed herself against him, provocatively, possessively. The heat of him was seeping through her sweatpants and touching her heart.

Still, Mulder didn't seem to understand. She felt his tremors as he tried to hold himself back. The vibrations only drove her wilder and she realized she had to make the first move.

Scully tenderly began to run her fingers over his scalp. Then down his warm, living, body as he strained towards her. Even has he continued to fight himself.

Scully felt his heartbeat and his breath through her hair. 'He's alive!' she thought joyously. 'He's alive!' Unable to stop her exploration she moved her hand around his hip and cupped his ass as he had done to her. 

Mulder still didn't yield so she pushed herself even further onto his body and began to lick and kiss his neck. "You're alive," she moaned.

"Scully," he moaned. "Please."

She wasn't sure what he was asking her for. For her to stop maybe? But she couldn't, not unless he asked her to directly.

"You're alive Mulder," she repeated.

"Yes, Scully, I'm alive. We're both alive." Mulder was close to tears, she could hear it in his voice.

He still doesn't get that I need him, she realized sadly. The beautiful, insecure, respectful man. She felt answering tears in her own eyes. Then she felt it. The air shifted and his lips formed a wordless "O" in her hair. He finally figured it out. Then he let out a snort at his own slowness.

Still, he had to ask her for reassurance and permission. "Do you want this?" he whispered.

Scully just nodded, still unable to say the words. Still afraid to break the spell and find them sliding back into another day where they stayed on their safe, comfortable sides of the line.

Then she felt him take her nipple in his mouth. Definitely no lines tonight, she thought before she lost herself to the sensation of Mulder's mouth finally tasting her body.

Then he pulled away and she almost whimpered at the loss, until she looked in his eyes and saw the pure joy. He had finally figured out that she returned the desire he obviously felt. The love.

Then he kissed her. Really, really kissed. Not an aborted brushing of lips, but a feverish, yet tender meeting of lips and tongues. A kiss she felt all the way down to her candy pink painted toe nails. She finally had the pouty lower lip right where she wanted it.

He once again began to caress her breast, the friction of the wet fabric against her straining nipple was sending sparks through her body. She wasn't sure, but she thought the moans she heard were coming from her.

And then he began to kiss her face, gently and tenderly. His love passing from his lips into her heart with every press.

Tenderness soon transformed back to passion as he began to suck on her earlobes. Lord help her, she had no idea why, but that had always driven her mad. The fact that it was Mulder and his sexy lips on her almost drove her over the edge. She wasn't far from ripping his damn clothes off so she didn't touch him back as she reigned in her baser impulses and savored the moment.

Then she realized she didn't want this to be just one moment. She wanted lots and lots of moments for the rest of their lives. She'd rather this ended now than to have to endure his post-coital insecurity and withdrawal. Scully needed to make sure that Mulder understood she was in this wholeheartedly.

"I want this Mulder," she said told him. "I'm tired of waiting for the perfect time."

Mulder pulled back and looked at her, obviously eager to hear what she had to say. That's what she loved about him, well one of the many things. He was always willing to listen to her. He might not always believe her or follow her advice, but he respected her right to say what was on her mind.

"We've been waiting for it to be allowed. We've been waiting for the perfect time. There isn't going to be one, Mulder. Either one of us could be gone in a heartbeat and all we'll have left are regrets. I don't want us to die with regrets, Mulder. I want us to live," she finished firmly.

She saw the tears pool in his eyes as he reached out and cupped her face just like he did in his hallway. "Me too. I want us to live."Then like in the hallway he leaned in and kissed her.

This kiss was different. In this kiss was a certainty mixed in with the passion. In this kiss she felt just how much he understood her words, spoken and unspoken.

"Mulder," she moaned into his mouth. She had just one more thing she wanted to say. She touched his cheek and pulled away. Her fingers curled up against his cheek as she looked into his eyes, she was holding his heart in her hand, she knew that now. She wanted to give him hers in return.

"We won't go back. I won't let us go back. I love you, Fox William Mulder and I'm never ever letting you go. I don't know how, but I will hold you in my arms, in our bed, and I will make love to you and care for you for the rest of our lives." Scully thought her heart would burst. The words had finally been set free.

Tears began to fall down Mulder's cheeks. His eyes had turned olive green. 

"I won't ever let you go Scully," he said as she began to lick up his tears. Then their mouths melded again. Never.

END


End file.
